


Thomas Jefferson, a gigolo

by bootyjupiter



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 23:05:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6213748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bootyjupiter/pseuds/bootyjupiter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas Jefferson returns from France and offers a compromise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thomas Jefferson, a gigolo

**Author's Note:**

> Texted to a friend in the wee hours of the morning after an evening of debauchery.

I remember the day I met Thomas Jefferson. I've heard much of this man from my impassioned lover and most highly regarded mr president George Washington, but even the most extravagant descriptions from my friend and mentor could not prepare me for the reality of mr Thomas Jefferson. He strutted upon the Capitol on the hottest day of February and his prose raced through my mind with admiration. My hero, the man I idolize, the announcer of the revolution, the colonial pimp, and a sudden rush of rage engulfs me. He approaches Madison and shakes his hand. They're old friends. Madison is maddened and they look to me, and I realize mr Jefferson has a new enemy and it is me. He's tall like mr president and I wonder, I wonder if he is as they say he is, a gigolo, a loose man. I wonder and I hope. I take the opportunity to introduce myself and he plays nice. "Mr Hamilton." "Mr Jefferson, sir," I stammer and make a strange noise I can't decipher. He looks at me like I've insulted him and I'm flushed, embarrassed. We are destined to battle, but I'm a lover, not a fighter. "We have things to discuss" he said tersely. He invited me to his new office and opened a window, "a bit hot in here, would you say?" He offered me a seat but I said I'd prefer to stand. I was warm, hands clammy and I knew I would fidget if I let my legs rest. "In France," he began, pouring two glasses of Sam Adams Boston lager, "we had much better beer than this, but then, the minds in America are of a fervor incomparable to any nation I've visited." "Is that so, sir," I stammer, taking the glass of Sam Adams to calm my nerves. "Mr Hamilton," he smiled down at me, making me swoon though I wouldn't let him on. "I've got a compromise for you, sir." "Is that so?" I responded, playing cool. But then he touched me and showed me to his desk. He bent over and presented, as if he'd served in the war, and chugged his beer, "it's so, mr Hamilton, sir," he pulled his butt cheeks apart and proved to me this wasn't his first time. "Enter me, for we are no longer taxed relentlessly, and I will give you your national bank, sir, in exchange for a southern Capitol." As I gazed upon his apple bottom, I couldn't resist the deal and had to concede. And I showed him what skills I had developed as George washington's right hand man. ;)


End file.
